Criticism As Inspiration
by marianna
Summary: A DickBeaver slash fic set before the finale, but also, in this universe, the person who is responsible for the crash, isn't responsible. Everything else that happened there, that could have feasably happened before the finale, happens though. One shot.


His lips taste like Chap Stick. Cassidy expected something else; beer, or the pot he'd just smoked, some girl's lip gloss maybe…but all he tastes is Chap Stick, and he can't help but liking the flavor. It's strong, minty even and just like his brother, an assault to the senses. He twines his fingers through Dick's hair, putting pressure on the back of his neck, pulling his head down, searing their lips together. He tastes blood-it's getting violent between them, but he can't let go. It's a battle of wills, and he won't be the one giving up first.

"Hell of a time to realize you like Dick," Dick breathes, breaking away for just a moment, gulping greedily at the air surrounding them; laughing as he wipes his palms on the legs of his pants. His words break the spell and Cassidy takes a step back, the backs of his legs banging against the steamer trunk positioned at the foot of his bed.

"I don't!" His words are drowned out as Dick's lips settle back down on his, his nimble fingers cupping his cheeks, and although Cassidy is pushing, trying frantically to get away, they both know he isn't going anywhere.

"I just want to make it clear, little brother," Dick intones, breaking away from him again, his eyes wide but hazy, his hair ruffled from where Cassidy is gripping it. "I'm not gay." He laughs again, and the sound is throaty, the booming sound filled with spice and promise. Cassidy nods, but leans into him again, this magnetic force pulling him towards his brother. He isn't gay either, despite…despite everything…except, now, here with Dick…things are different. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing Dick's hands away. He isn't gay-he can't be, he's _sure_ of it. The fact that he and Dick are…well, doing whatever it is they're doing, _he isn't gay_. Because that would be another complication he doesn't want to-_can't_ handle. His lips tremble and he bites them, turning away, so that Dick can't see the tears welling. In a surprising show of tenderness, Dick runs his thumb against his quivering bottom lip. Cassidy in turn, tries not to moan.

"I'm not either," He mumbles against his brother's lips as Dick presses himself closer, and then, when his tongue flicks into Cassidy's mouth, he forgets all other rational thought. They fall back against the bed, Dick on top, the heavier dominant one, his adept fingers working the hem of his little brother's shirt, kissing his neck as he lifts it inch by inch, only settling onto his lips again when he's pulled the offending Polo over his head, scraping his neck with his finger nails slightly in the process. It stings for a minute, bringing a sense of reality into the room, and Cassidy blushes like crazy, his mind traveling in too many directions to count, but instead of running away, Dick only kisses the sensitive spot on his neck, his tongue making little cylindrical patterns into his skin. He is already half naked, his shirt discarded somewhere in the rug covered hallway Cassidy can slightly see over his brother's shoulder, his pants unbuttoned and hanging from his surprisingly slim hips, his erection straining against his Daffy Duck boxers. If he weren't so turned on, Cassidy would laugh.

When it's over, Dick leaves without a word, pulling his jeans up as he rolls from the bed, his belt, left unbuckled clinking at his waist.

"Don't be all late getting up tomorrow. We have that court thing…with mom. In the city." He mutters, facing the door, his fingers sweaty on the doorknob, thankful that Beaver can't see how nervous he is.

"I won't." Beaver replies quietly, his eyes steady on the worn rug beneath his brother's feet. The door slams, startling him. He's never felt so alone.

&&

Cassidy is kissing a girl in the corner of Casey Gant's spacious living room. She's giggling, smiling up at him like he's a real man, and not just Dick Casablancas' shit little brother, her eyes shining, and he's never felt so good.

"Wanna go somewhere more private?" Her hair is tousled and her lips are bruised from all the kissing, but she's smiling up at him as she bats her eyelashes, and Cassidy nods excitedly, dipping his head to kiss her again. She giggles as she kisses him back, snapping her gum when she pulls away. "Let me just go…freshen up." She murmurs, wiping at the corner of his lips and shaking her ass in her skintight jeans as she shimmies by. He can't believe his luck.

"Beaver." Dick's voice is cold in his ear, and he's wary as he turns to look at his brother. He's obviously wasted, his shirt half tucked in his pants, his eyes wide and his hair mussed. There's a hickey on his neck, and Beaver swallows in disgust.

"What, Dick?" Acid rolls from his tongue, and thought dazed, Dick's eyes flash with anger.

"Don't fuckin' 'what' me, _Beaver_. What are you doing with that ho?" His breath is hot as it mingles with Cassidy's, and for a crazy moment, he thinks Dick'll kiss him right here, in front of all these people. At the last moment, Dick realizes it too, that they're not alone, and before Beaver can even _protest_, Dick pushes him down the hall, towards the library, the furthest from the living room and from all of those fucking people. It's in this moment, as he's pushing Beaver against the oak wood stacks, his fingers skimming across his skin underneath the cotton fabric of his t-shirt, that Dick realizes he fucking _hates_ people.

"Dick, what are you-?" He tries to get the words out, but Dick is kissing his neck, his jaw line, his throat, and when their lips meet, it's like always, and he can't think.

"I saw you with that girl," Dick mutters, his fingers shucking his belt and pushing his jeans down around his ankles. "I saw you with that girl, and I don't know man." He kisses him again, fingers framing his face, pulling Beaver as close as humanly possible, their lips fusing together completely. "I lost it." He breathes when they finally break apart, leaning his chin against Beaver's now exposed shoulder, pressing an openmouthed kiss there. Beaver shudders.

"Do you, uh-" Cassidy starts, rubbing his palm against his forehead, his fingers rubbing against his eyes. "We should-" He can't seem to formulate coherent sentences with Dick so close, his signature scent of patchouli and sandalwood creeping up around him. He's been around the smell his whole life-it has to be in Dick's soap or _something_, but never before did it have this kind of effect on him. Dick doesn't letting him finish, leaning up and kissing him again, his Chap Stick lips cutting him off. It's not a fevered kiss this time, just the hot melding of mouths against each other, and as he pulls away, he's smiling.

"We should go back to the party." He says, and Beaver tries not to let his face fall too far. He nods as he settles his eyes settle on the worn damask carpeting covering the floor, tracing the flowered pattern with his sneaker-clad foot. Stepping back, Dick smiles again, and for the life of him, Cassidy can't figure out why. "We'll finish this in private, bro." He says, and before he can even respond, or look up, or anything but nod, really, Dick is gone.


End file.
